Page 87 of Picking Daisies on Sundays

“The whole book,” he breathed. “Every poem in there is about you. Everything I wrote came back to you.”I tried to stop loving you, but along the way, you found your way into the sound of my laugh, the style of my writing, and the threads of my clothes.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say. This was about me? No, no, it couldn’t be. But he just said… All the corners and nooks of my mind were trying to process it.

“This is about me?”

“Every. Single. Word.” He breathed those words like they had been prepared for months.

But my brain immediately jumped to: “I thought you loved Bella.” My voice cracked.If hearts were meant to love then why did minefeel so empty?

He looked at me in astonishment. There had never been a moment in my life where we doubted each other. But I…I just couldn’t come to terms with this. Was it pity? Did he feel bad for me? Has he just convinced himself that he likes me because of my letter—but the poetry book was written before all of this.

He looked away, rolling his tongue under his cheek, and exhaled. Then he looked at me, and my heart took off down a runway. “I’m so grateful for everything I have in life, I am. But when I see you, all I can think about is how much better life would be if you were mine. I’m so infatuated with everything you do, from the color of your lips to the way you slide your hips back and forth when you dance to the way you twist your earrings when you’re upset or how you blush when I touch you and how you breathe when I sayDaisy.”

I was stunned.

He took a step closer, not an inkling of regret in his statement.To be close to you was to be haunted by what I couldn’t have and to be reminded of how much I truly wanted you.Another step closer, and I was backed into the wall. His hands held onto my jaw the way they always did when he was worried about me. My knees simply went weak as he spoke. Jesus, did he know what he was doing to me?

“Say something,” he pleaded.

“But I’m moving to Paris.” That thought hung on me like a rusty keychain that refused to come off.

There was an equal sadness in his eyes. “It’s just for a year.”

“A lot can happen in a year,” I echoed his past statement.

He winced. “That’s not fair. That was before I knew how you felt. Before I knew I could fly out to see you, and send you letters,

and call you every day and tell you that I love you.”

My heart whacked against my ribcage.He loved me. The book he wrote was aboutme. He didn’t love Bella. He never rejected me that night of prom. He loved me. He loves me.

His thumb moved over my cheekbone. “Daisy?” he said, trying to get my attention. He was nervous again, that smile gone.

My throat tightened up. I was nervous to say the words that always played in my head like a soundtrack when Levi was around. But the gorgeous look in his eyes, it…it took a weight off my shoulders.

“You love me?” I whispered. His shoulders relaxed and his eyes went weak with desire.

“I love you more than my heart can physically handle.”

He waited for my response, but I had no words left that could explain what I was feeling. So, I leaned in and reminded myself of what it was like to kiss him.

I felt his whole body shudder. His hands were still on my face as I pressed my lips against his and grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him closer. The sun lit in my heart, radiating my whole body with warmth at the touch of his lips. He pulled away for a quick moment, dragging his glasses off of his face, and diving back in. My stomach fluttered with a million frantic butterflies and my hands vibrated with desire to touch him. I had never been so forward, but his urgency matched mine, kissing me back and releasing small breaths, like neither of us could get enough. He tasted sweet and his lips were soft. The fullness of his bottom lip and the smell of his cologne at the nape of his neck reminded me of angelic piano melodies that hypnotized you with their beauty.

I was running my hands through his hair, and my heart was

beating at the same pace of rain when it hit the pavement on a hot summer night. His hair brushed my forehead while mine was twisted in his fingers. I saw stars as he encased my jaw in his palm and kissed me deeper. His chest was against mine and it was like we were two halves of a broken heart friendship necklace. I didn’t want to let go. I don’t think he did either, and it made me smile into the kiss like an idiot.

He smiled back. “Say you love me,” he murmured against my lips.

Without a second thought, I said, “I love you.”

He pressed a smooth kiss to my surprised mouth.

“My favorite flowers were always daisies,” he said in a dreamy state. I shielded my face in the crook of his neck. Flowers were growing in my heart and sprouting through my chest.He loves me.

“So you think my hair always looks stupidly perfect?” he asked.

I blushed before laughing.